


Sacrifice, Or How Draco Malfoy Fell For Hermione Granger

by craaazyaboutMalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood Magic, Dark Magic, Dark Mark, Death Eaters, Death Eaters up to no good, Drama, Drama & Romance, Dungeon Sex, F/M, Gen, Good Draco Malfoy, HEA, HP: EWE, Halloween, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Library, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, Magic, Malfoy Manor, Malfoy dungeons, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Epilogue Compliant, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Post-Deathly Hallows AU, Post-War, Potions, Powerful Hermione, Resurrection, Virgin Sacrifice, Virginity, Wizengamot, dragon - Freeform, dramione - Freeform, prisoner, unicorn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9388268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craaazyaboutMalfoy/pseuds/craaazyaboutMalfoy
Summary: Hermione Granger finds that her blood is an ingredient in a potion to resurrect Voldemort, but it only works if she's a virgin. Surrounded by death eaters, can she convince Draco Malfoy to help?





	1. Prologue

When Hermione returned to Hogwarts after Voldemort’s defeat, she’d felt strangely lonely without Harry and Ron. Aurors had been scarce, and the Death Eaters needed to be rounded up as quickly as possible. Suddenly, the Magical Law Enforcement Office was willing to take all the help they could get. Dutiful as ever, the duo had jumped at the chance and had both gained full Auror status by the end of Summer. So while they followed their paths of bravery and recklessness, Hermione chose to stick with what she loved best-books and cleverness.

She had been certain that Hogwarts would not be the same without her best friends by her side. However, when the notorious blood purist and ex-Death Eater, _Draco Malfoy,_ had been unnervingly polite and friendly to her, she struck up a quick and easy friendship with him. She was surprised to find that the boy could actually smile and laugh like a normal person.

That had lasted all of one week. In her mind, she often referred to it as the ′ _Week of Insanity.′_

He’d approached her in the Library after the first day of the term and given her a scroll with a list of things he wanted to apologise to her for.

The parchment had been over three feet long, and while the first few things on the list were actually worth apologising for, like ′ _for calling you a M*dbl**d,′_ (yes, he’d actually used the asterisks) and _‘for standing by and doing nothing when my favourite aunt tortured you,’_ the later ones were quite humorous, like _‘for being devilishly handsome,’ ‘for being so sexy,’_ and _‘for making you want me.’_

She’d asked him about it in the Library the next day, and he’d blushed a deep red.

‘You read the whole thing?’ he’d asked, scratching the back of his head self-consciously. ’I just wanted to make the list seem long. Didn’t think you’d _actually_ sit and read it all.′

* * *

They’d worked on Snape’s first Potions essay of the term together. When Malfoy’s turned out to be a few inches too short, he had whispered to her to _‘Learn from the Master,’_ and scrawled neatly into the extra space -

_‘Professor Snape is a Sex God, with an amazing body and seductively black hair. All Slytherin boys secretly admire his devilishly handsome style. I want to be just like him someday. He’s got swagger.’_

This effectively covered the remainder of the page. Satisfied, Malfoy had rolled up the parchment and smirked at Hermione’s incredulous expression.

‘He’ll fail you for that!’ She’d exclaimed.

He’d merely winked and sauntered off.

* * *

Two days later, he’d passed her his graded essay after Potions class, smugness radiating off him in waves. While _her_ essay, which she’d meticulously researched, and was a whole six inches longer than required, had received only an _‘E,’_ Malfoy had a large _‘O’_ and a _‘Well written, keep up the good work!’_ on his. She’d muttered indignantly about the unfairness of it all the way to the Great Hall, with him chuckling softly by her side.

‘Even Professor Slughorn wasn’t this biased!’ she’d exclaimed, only to have him eye her with a raised brow mockingly in response, his lips curved into an amused smile. Not a smirk-a real, honest-to-god _smile._ She’d blinked at his face in shock for at least a minute afterward, her mind going blank.

Thankfully, he hadn’t appeared to have noticed.

* * *

’It’s _Voldemort,_ not The Dark Lord,′ she’d chided him, cutting him off halfway through a discussion of the War.

_‘What?’_ he’d asked, trying to cover up his flinch, eyes wide.

‘It’s the name he chose for himself, isn’t it?’ she’d shrugged back. ‘Makes sense to use it.’

‘Only you, Granger,’ he’d declared, shaking his head. ’I would’ve loved to see the look on the Dark Lo- _Voldemort’s_ face if you’d told him that.′

Hermione had just grinned at him approvingly. ‘I guess we’ll never know.’

* * *

The weekend passed with no sign of him. It was as if he’d disappeared from the castle altogether.

On Monday, she’d found him sitting at his usual table in the Library and sat down across from him with a smile. He’d sneered at her and stalked away, muttering under his breath about _‘Mudblood filth.’_ Angry, she’d followed him behind the shelves, only to have him point his wand at her neck and tell her in no uncertain terms to _‘stay the fuck away from him and all the other Slytherins’_ and to _‘stop tainting her superiors with her unholy company.’_

She’d been shocked at his sudden hostility, and more than a little hurt, but she’d avoided him like the plague since then. Her job was made easier by the fact that he seemed to be avoiding her, too.

She simply couldn’t understand the way the Slytherin boy’s mind worked.

Eventually, she’d concluded that he may have been pranking her, or been pranked himself. Hell, maybe it was a dare to get along with the know-it-all Mudblood bitch for a week. Knowing Malfoy, the latter was probably the most likely explanation.

So she’d pushed that week to the corner of her mind and fallen back into the old pattern-ignoring most of the snide comments, and retaliating whenever the opportunity presented itself. Life was back to normal, but she’d never felt more alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> Beta Credit: SilverRiv (on fanfiction.net)  
> Note that this prologue is just a snippet view of events leading to the actual fic. Future chapters will be more solid and structured.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave and review! You'd make my day :)
> 
> ~craaazyaboutMalfoy


	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets kidnapped.

Torches sputtered in their brackens along every few meters of the imposing stone walls of Hogwarts, doing nothing to ward of the icy cold drafts even in the bowels of the enormous castle. The young Muggleborn witch walking along the lonely dungeon corridor pulled her cloak closer to her body with a shudder. It was going to be a cold winter, she guessed, since it was still mid-October. The stark flickering shadows made every turn and corner in the corridor seem foreboding and sinister.

Hermione Granger stopped outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room and muttered the password under her breath.

‘Harry Potter is my hero.’

As Head Girl, she had the doubtful honour of assigning all house passwords. She smirked, picturing the expression on Malfoy’s face as he was forced to say the password multiple times a day. _Maybe I should change it after Halloween,_ she thought morbidly, her smirk widening. ‘Muggleborns are gods’ _has a nice ring to it._

Entering the Slytherin common room, she was surprised to find a lone Draco Malfoy sprawled inelegantly on the couch near the fire, seemingly fast asleep. _‘Think of the devil,’_ she thought.

His platinum locks were splayed around his head like a halo. Without the ever-present sneer on his face, he looked-dare she even think it?- _handsome._ She paused for a second, taking in the beauty of the scene before she could come back to her senses and realize that she was actually looking at _Draco Malfoy,_ the bane of her existence.

As if feeling her stare, his eyes shot open, light grey orbs piercing her own brown ones.

 _‘Mudblood,’_ he greeted. The sneer returned to his face, and despite his position, he actually managed to make her feel like _he_ was the one looking down on _her. ′_ What are you doing in the S _nakepit?′_ he spat, using the nickname the Gryffindors had come up with for the Slytherin common room.

‘I came to see Nott. He said he wanted some help with his Charms homework after dinner.’ Hermione replied levelly as she settled into an armchair, trying to hide her annoyance at his unnecessary hostility. She looked around the empty room. ‘Where is he? Where is everyone, for that matter?’ It was just past dinner, and usually, the Gryffindor common room would have been packed for at least another couple of hours.

‘I sent everyone to their dorms,’ he drawled, pulling himself to a seated position, a predatory gleam in his eye. ’I needed a little time to _talk_ to you. It appears you are even dumber than you look, Granger.′ Hermione couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her spine under his gaze as he continued to speak, a little menace entering his tone as he stood up, towering over her. ’I _warned_ you, in no uncertain terms, to stay away from the Slytherins. Yet here you are, in our common room, no less.′ He sneered down at her, his lips curling in a blatant show of disgust. ’You _stupid_ Mudblood bint!′

Hermione was on her feet before she realized what she was doing, her arms shivering as she tried to reign in her fury. ’Who gave you the right to dictate what _I_ do, Malfoy?′ she spat back, practically radiating anger. ’Not everyone is as fucking prejudiced as you are. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but don’t think for _one second_ that you have any power over me. I was a fool to think you were any better than the Death Eater scum you call a father.′ She knew she’d hit a nerve, but she didn’t care. _Who does he think he is?_ she thought furiously.

Malfoy’s wand was drawn and at her neck before she could react. ‘Watch your mouth, you filthy Mudblood bitch! Don’t you dare compare -’

‘Is there a problem here?’ Theodore Nott stood nonchalantly at the door to the Slytherin boy’s dorms, his wand held deceptively loosely in his hand, aimed squarely at Malfoy’s chest. ‘I’d put your wand away if I were you, Draco,’ he added, his tone conversational, as if he were merely commenting on the weather.

When Malfoy didn’t move, Nott tightened his grip on his wand and extended his arm out, as if to prove he wasn’t bluffing, arching his eyebrow in an open challenge. Hermione took advantage of his distraction to raise her own wand towards Malfoy.

Clearly outnumbered, Malfoy backed down, his eyes still gleaming with anger. ‘You’re going to regret not listening to me, Granger,’ Malfoy warned, a strange edge to his voice.

Fixing a glare on Nott, he quickly retreated from the room. Hermione followed him with her eyes until the door close behind him, just in case he tried anything else. ’What’s _his_ problem?′ Hermione demanded the moment he was out of sight.

‘He thinks he’s protecting you.’ Nott replied distractedly, his voice floating over from behind her, too close for comfort. Before she could react, though, she felt the tip of a wand poke the small of her back, and heard a muttered _‘Stupefy!’_ Her world tilted, rapidly fading to black.

* * *

The first thing Hermione noticed when she awoke was the hard, cold stone floor beneath her. Where was the soft mattress she always slept on in her dorm at Hogwarts? Where was _she_?

Trying to stop her rising panic, she opened her eyes. She was in a dungeon of some sort, she guessed. A dim light lit her cell, but there was no indication as to its source. The room itself was roughly hemispherical, with a ceiling six feet high. One wall was covered in bars, and she could see a corridor beyond. What scared her most, though, was the harmless looking chamber pot in the back of the cell.

She needed to get out of there, and soon.

She tried rattling the bars in hope of dislodging them, but they appeared to have been magically reinforced. She desperately reached into her robes for her wand, only to come up empty. Sweet Merlin, where was her _wand?_

Quelling her rising fear, she struggled to her feet, only to stumble back to the ground as her head spun and pounded in protest at the movement.

However, as time passed, she realized that the more worrisome fact was the lack of a door. She even went as far as to feel every reachable inch of the wall and floor for a trapdoor, only to be disappointed.

Desperately, she tried to disapparate, only to find that she couldn’t. Wherever she was, there were heavy anti-magic wards and maybe other protective enchantments her as well.

She huddled desolately against the cold wall, contemplating her predicament. There was only one conclusion-she’d been kidnapped.

Voldemort was gone, and the Death Eaters had gone into hiding. _The threat was supposed to be over._ So why would Nott kidnap her?

She was distracted from her thoughts a few hours- _or was it a few minutes?_ -later by the sound of approaching footsteps. The person came into view, and fear clutched her heart as she recognized Rabastan Lestrange leering at her through the bars.

The wizard was as repulsive as she remembered from the few glimpses she’d caught of him at the Final Battle. The manic gleam in his eyes and his twisted smirk as he surveyed her made her throat constrict in fear, and she felt the adrenaline buzzing through her veins.

‘Good day, Mudblood,’ he mocked, ’I see you’re _finally_ awake. Do the accommodations live up to the Malfoy name?′ he asked, looking around her cell.

 _So I’m back in Malfoy Manor,_ she thought, her hair standing on edge. Then another thought invaded her mind, sending chills down her spine -  _he wouldn’t be telling me this if they planned to let me leave here alive._

‘What do you want?’ Hermione finally found her voice, and was relieved when it didn’t betray her fear. ‘If it’s revenge you want, then kill me and get it over with.’

Lestrange simply chuckled. ‘Brave. I like it. It’ll be all the more fun to break you.’ He licked his lips, eying her in a way that made her extremely uncomfortable. ’I don’t suppose you would’ve heard of the _Renascentia Potion?_ No?′ he asked surveying her confused expression. ‘It’s a Potion for rebirth.’

And then it clicked.

_Rebirth?_

She gasped as comprehension sunk in, her eyes widening.

_Bloody hell. They’re going to try to resurrect Voldemort._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> Beta Credit: SilverRiv (on fanfiction.net)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave and review! You'd make my day :)
> 
> ~craaazyaboutMalfoy


	3. Chapter 2: Failed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets interrupted.

‘What does that have to do with me?’ She demanded, alarmed.

Lestrange leered down at her. ‘The Renascentia Potion mainly involves blood-but the key ingredient? It’s the blood of a virgin Mudblood witch. She must be over 17 years old. Ideally, a witch born in mid-September, right between his birth day, on 31st December, and his Death, on 2nd May. Any guesses on who matched all the criteria, Mudblood?’ He seemed to be enjoying himself as he watched her absorb all his information.

She glared at him. ‘I won’t give you my blood,’ she said, internally wincing at how pathetic that sounded. They could take it whenever they pleased. She was powerless against them without her wand.

‘Ah, that stubbornness is simply mouth-watering.’ Rabastan simply looked at her in utter amusement, laced with what seemed to be a tiny hint of regret. ’I’d have loved to teach you a thing or two, Mudblood. It’s a real pity about your _virginity_ being necessary for the Potion, isn’t it? We could have had _so_ much fun.′

Hermione shivered at the implications his words. The very idea of him touching her was repulsive. The bars on her cell, which she’d been trying to dislodge, were the only things standing between her and the raving madman. ‘You can’t touch me,’ she spat, moving to the back of her cell, out of his reach.

‘Is that so?’ Lestrange stepped forward, walking _straight through_ the bars as if they didn’t exist. His faced twisted into a triumphant sneer at her horrified expression. ’The bars are designed to recognize the Dark Mark on my arm. Did you think we needed _your permission_ , Mudblood? That we had to knock on your door, and wait for you to invite us in?′ he sneered, closing in on her until he had her backed up against the wall. He reached out a hand, caressing the side of her face almost tenderly. ‘I take what I want,’ he rasped, his sour breath hitting her face making her want to hurl up her last meal. Cupping her face in his palm, he ignored her furious struggles and pressed his lips to hers.

 _This can’t be happening!_ She thought frantically. Her skin crawled with disgust wherever he touched her, but there was also the bigger picture to consider. Sweet _Goddess, this can’t be happening. Voldemort can’t come back! There has to be a way to stop it!_

The idea forming in her head was so crazy she didn’t even stop to second guess herself, for fear of giving away her plan. Swallowing her disgust, she forced herself to stop struggling and kissed the crazy Death Eater back. She began rocking her hips against his, throwing herself into the kiss.

 _When did I become so cold and detached?_ She wondered. Her parents didn’t remember her, Harry and Ron had each other. No one would miss her when she was gone. She’d quickly accepted her looming death, she realized. Whatever happened along the way was just collateral damage. If her virginity was a tool in the Death Eater’s plans, she just had to sabotage that tool.

Lestrange was so surprised at her response that he wrenched back in surprise. ‘Well, what do you know. The little virgin is a slut at heart,’ he chuckled, releasing her and stepping back.

Hermione couldn’t have that. Pulling him closer, she forced herself to bring her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his head. He automatically responded by pushing her back against the wall, lifting her up so that her she was at his height, letting her wrap her legs around his hips. She didn’t know much about seduction, but she was pretty certain it wouldn’t take much to seduce _this_ sorry excuse for a wizard.

Rubbing herself against the growing bulge she could feel through his robes, she left his lips to run her hands down his thankfully clothed chest and moved her lips to his ear, running it across the tender skin under his earlobe.

‘I need you,’ she whimpered against his skin, mentally gagging. ‘Take me, please.’ She tugged at the hem of his robe for emphasis.

That was all it took to make Lestrange groan with need. She felt a moment of triumph as he gave in, letting her peel his robe off his shoulders, leaving him in just his pants.

He went straight for her jeans, pulling them off with swift efficiency, then bringing their lips together once more. She steeled her resolve and stroked him through the material of his pants, almost certain he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Lestrange was tugging impatiently at her shirt, and Hermione let him pull it off her body. _Nearly there,_ she told herself. _Well done._ She’d never been so exposed in front of a Wizard before, but she did her best to act unaffected as she stood before him in her bra and knickers, kissing him while rubbing his straining erection as she struggled to pull off his pants.

‘WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?’ Icarus Zabini’s voice thundered, stepping into her Cell to bodily pull Lestrange off her. ‘Fool!’ He hissed out angrily. ’We _need_ her to be a virgin if her blood is to work. It’s too late to find another witch.′ He slapped the wizard across the face hard enough to knock him down flat. Hermione struggled to keep her tumultuous mix of horror, disgust and relief from showing on her face.

’You let a filthy _virgin_ Mudblood seduce you?′ Hermione could’ve sworn the Wizard’s lip twitched in amusement for a second, but it was gone before she could tell for certain, his haughty air returning. ’You’re a _disgrace,_ Rabastan. Now get out of my sight before I kill you myself.′

Hermione shrank back as Lestrange, recognizing how real that threat was, hurried out of the cell, not even bothering to retrieve his robe.

Zabini turned his attention to her, his eyes amused. ‘You’re smart for a Muggleborn, Ms. Granger,’ he said, throwing her clothes to her and gliding effortlessly through her cell bars. ’But know this-there is no escape available. If you’d lost your virginity today, we would have killed you in the blink of an eye, since you would cease to be of use to us. But as a virgin, all we’d need is a _little_ of your blood, and you’d be a free witch. We’d all get what we want.′

She scoffed at him. ‘And you’d just let me go? Do you actually expect me to believe you’d simply release Harry Potter’s Muggleborn best friend? The mastermind behind Voldemort’s death? I may be a virgin, but I’m not that naïve.’

Zabini chuckled, any hint of friendliness fading. ‘You’re smart, for a Mudblood,’ he replied darkly. ’But know this-I will personally ensure you have no more ‘visitors.’ Lestrange slipped past my guard, but rest assured that it won’t happen again. Good bye, Mudblood.′

He shoved a tray of food at her, which she presumed was the reason he’d arrived when he did, and stalked away. It held a warm meal that looked surprisingly delicious, but Hermione decided not to touch it for fear of being drugged into submission.

She pulled her clothes back on, feeling dirty. She wanted so badly to bathe and wash away the feel of Lestrange’s body against hers. _All that effort for nothing,_ she thought bitterly. _Damn Icarus Zabini._

She threw Lestrange’s cloak out of the cell through a gap in the bars, disgusted. Another minute and she would’ve succeeded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> Beta Credit: SilverRiv (on fanfiction.net)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave and review! You'd make my day :)
> 
> ~craaazyaboutMalfoy


	4. Chapter 3: Irony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's Musings

_Damn_ that useless Muggleborn witch!

Draco Malfoy fumed to himself as he hurried to the edge of Hogwarts’ grounds, shrouded from the moonlight by the ancient trees.

He’d tried to warn her off, damn it, but she was too stubborn for her own good.

His Dark Mark was burning and it was all he could do not to vocalize his pain. Icarus Zabini, the new self-appointed head of the Death Eaters, enjoyed causing as much pain as possible with his summons.

Draco sprinted across the grounds, Disapparating to the Manor the moment he was clear of the castle’s wards.

Propping up his Occlumency wards in his mind, he tentatively entered his house. That’s all it was now-a _house,_ not the home it had once been. Since Voldemort returned, it had become something of a free lodge for all kinds of dark witches and wizards. He hated them all, and it was disturbing how easily he could have become one of them. Hell, everyone still expected it to happen.

And now those _idiotic_ free-loaders were trying to bring Voldemort back.

Draco knew things would only go from bad to worse if that happened. The others may have forgotten, but Draco still remembered how easily the Dark Lord turned on even his most loyal followers, punishing them mercilessly for the tiniest of mistakes.

He’d tried to nip the plan in the bud already, warning Granger in as much of a capacity as he could. Fat lot of good _that_ had done. He’d only managed to sink himself lower among the Death Eater ranks-if that was even _possible_ at this point – and his every move was now being carefully monitored by his so-called friends.

There wasn’t really much to be done at this point, anyway, except to watch how the events played out.

Granger may be stubborn, but she was definitely resourceful. Her actions with Lestrange more than proved that point.

There may be some hope after all, he concluded, making his way through the winding hallways of his mansion, heading towards the Dining/ _Plotting-World-Domination_ Room.

This had better be a quick meeting. He’d have to be back in Hogwarts by sunrise, or he’d end up the prime suspect in Granger’s disappearance.

_Oh, how he loved irony._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> Beta Credit: SilverRiv (on fanfiction.net)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave and review! You'd make my day :)
> 
> ~craaazyaboutMalfoy


	5. Chapter 4: Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets a visitor.

 

With two days to Halloween, the only people Hermione’d seen apart from Icarus Zabini were Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, who brought her meals regularly. She avoided the food as far as possible, especially those that she felt were easy to poison. She even sniffed everything before eating it, much to Daphne’s amusement.

Unlike Pansy, Daphne always waited until Hermione finished eating to take away the food tray. The girl was free with her conversation, making Hermione feel less like a prisoner and more comfortable. They spoke of harmless topics, avoiding sensitive subjects related to Death Eaters and politics. While she didn’t trust the girl, Hermione still preferred her company over loneliness.

And Zabini came by to check on her every evening. _He_ was obviously taking no risks with allowing her male company.

So, about a week into her confinement, she was unusually surprised to find _Draco Malfoy_ at the door of her cell.

He didn’t look smug or sneer at her as she’d expected, but looked down at her with grey eyes.

‘Hey, Granger,’ he said softly.

‘Malfoy,’ she responded, uncertainly. ’What are _you_ doing here? How did you get in?′

‘I’m a Malfoy, Granger. Do you think I can’t get through my own house undetected?’ He looked offended.

‘So you’re here. What now?’ She asked, staring at him.

_’Now,_ Granger, I say ’I told you so.″ He glared down at her. ’What part of _‘stay the fuck away from the Slytherins’_ was so hard for you to follow?′ He demanded.

‘You didn’t say why, Malfoy.’ She crossed her arms across her chest with a huff. ‘If you didn’t want me captured, you should’ve warned me about this to begin with.’

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face. ’We were forced to swear an oath to keep the secret, Granger. I couldn’t tell you about it, so I tried to scare you off instead. Should’ve known it would only egg you on. _Fucking_ Gryffindor!′ He sneered at her.

’Why do _you_ care, Malfoy?′ she asked softly, hope kindling in her heart.

‘I care, Granger, because I don’t want the Dark -I don’t want Voldemort back!’ He spun away from her angrily. ‘He destroyed my family the last time he came back. I don’t want that to happen again.’

She reached for him through the bars, placing her hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry, Malfoy,’ she whispered sadly. ‘I guess I should’ve listened to you.’

‘Yes, you should’ve.’ He replied evenly, turning back to her. ‘I’d help you escape if I could, but Zabini would know it was me in a second. I can’t risk that.’

‘Then can you get a message to the Order?’ She asked, eyeing him hopefully.

‘We have spies in the Order as well, Granger. I’m under scrutiny till Halloween anyway, since I tried to tip you off. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.’ He turned to go, head bowed.

He had only gone two steps when Hermione called out to him. ‘Wait, Malfoy!’

He looked over his shoulder at her, eyebrows raised in question.

‘There’s still a way out,’ she breathed, not believing she was about to suggest this, but too desperate to pass up an opportunity.

‘I’m certain Zabini would have thought of everything, Granger. There’s nothing I can do for you.’

‘You can take my virginity,’ she replied, surprised at how brash she sounded. Like she was asking him to lend her a cloak or something.

‘No.’ Malfoy stared at her, his face pale. ‘Don’t be disgusting, Granger.’

‘Why not?’ She demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘You know the Potion won’t work if I’m not a virgin.’

‘I… I can’t, Granger.’ He looked up at her with such a pained expression it made the turmoil Hermione was feeling give way to utter surprise.

Then a thought struck her, and she grew even more furious. ‘Why? Are you that revolted by the thought of being with an ugly, filthy Mudblood? Enough that you’d rather Voldemort returned?’

Malfoy flinched under her angry gaze. ’I don’t think you’re ugly _or_ filthy, Granger,′ he said softly, taking her hand in his. ‘But I respect you too much to take something like that from you. You may think you want this now, but you’ll hate me in the long run.’

_’The long run?_ ′ Hermione snorted, bemused. ‘I’m going to die in two days’ time either way, Malfoy. I’d rather _not_ unleash Voldemort in the process. I want to do this.′ She squeezed Malfoy’s hand softly.

Malfoy hesitated. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he replied, not meeting her eyes.

He tried to move away, but her arms trapped his wrists, stopping him. ‘What are you afraid of?’ she asked, searching his face for some indication for the reason behind his hesitation.

Malfoy shook his head, grimacing. ’What have our lives come to, Granger? Here you are, practically _begging_ me to rape you. Don’t you dare say it isn’t rape,′ he cut her off as she opened her mouth to protest. ’I’ve done many bad things under The Da-Voldemort, but rape is something I have not had to stoop to. _Yet.′_ He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as if pained by the idea. ‘If I do this, how am I any better than Rabastan Lestrange?’

It was Hermione’s turn to grimace. ‘You heard about that?’ she asked.

’Everyone and their kneazles heard about _that,_ Granger. Zabini told all the Death Eaters about it, both as a punishment to Rabastan and a warning to the others.′

‘Well, you’re better than Lestrange, Malfoy. I had to seduce him. But I’m only asking you. Think of it as a friend asking a friend for a favour.’

‘When was the last time you asked Potter or Weasley for such favours?’ Malfoy snorted, shaking his head. ‘No, Granger. We aren’t friends. There’s too much history.’

‘An accomplice, then,’ she persisted. ‘Partners in crime.’ She gave him a pleading look.

Malfoy shook his head. ‘Fine. Whatever. I’ll come back after everyone’s asleep or something,’ he muttered, escaping her grasp, his eyes not meeting hers.

Hermione opened her mouth, but he silenced her with a glared warning. ’Do _not_ say thank you, Granger. This situation is too screwed up as it is, and you have more to lose than I do. Clear?′

Hermione nodded quickly. ‘See you tonight, then,’ she murmured instead.

Malfoy grimaced, and she watched him disappear down the corridor, wondering how she was able to bargain over something so personal with such complete detachment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> Beta Credit: SilverRiv (on fanfiction.net)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave and review! You'd make my day :)
> 
> ~craaazyaboutMalfoy


	6. Chapter 5: Success

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT WARNING

 Malfoy returned three hours later, after Daphne had come and gone with dinner and Zabini had finished his nightly inspection.

‘Are you sure about this, Granger?’ He asked once he was in her cell, shedding his outer cloak that he had thrown over his pyjamas. His eyes begged her to say she’d changed her mind, even as he took his wand out and cast Imperturbable and Silencing Charms around them, followed by a Cushioning Charm on the floor of her cell.

‘I want this,’ she repeated confidently.

‘There’s no going back once it’s done,’ he murmured uncertainly, almost to himself.

‘I know.’ She replied without missing a beat.

‘But-’ he began, but she cut him off crossly.

’Stop procrastinating and just _fuck me already,_ Malfoy.′ She couldn’t keep the impatience out of her tone.

He stared at her, caught off guard. He’d never thought he’d hear such words from the _Gryffindor Princess,_ as he’d dubbed her in his head, but then he’d never expected to find himself in such an unusual predicament either. But something about the way she said the words struck a chord within him.

‘You’ve given up on yourself, haven’t you?’ His awed, almost reverent tone unnerved her.

‘What do you mean?’ She hedged, moving closer to him and beginning to unbutton the top of his pyjama shirt.

His hands gently caught hers on the second button, forcing her to look up at his face in question. ‘You’ve accepted death.’ It was a statement.

Hermione shrugged. ‘I know I will die anyway. As long as Voldemort stays dead, I believe it a worthy sacrifice.’

‘A sacrifice? So I’m just a – a means to an end here, aren’t I?’ he asked, an unusual vulnerability in his voice.

‘That depends on your perspective, Malfoy. You’re using me to ensure Voldemort doesn’t return either. Think of it as a business transaction. Or you know what,’ she added frustratedly as she struggled with his next button, ‘think of it as whatever the hell you want. As long as we do this.’

Giving up on his shirt, she backed away from him and stripped self-consciously down to her bra and knickers. Feeling uncomfortable, she looked at Malfoy again.

He stood frozen, staring at her body. When he realized she’d caught him, he swiftly averted his gaze. Hermione felt her face heat up, even as she watched his cheeks turn a bright pink.

Pulling back slightly, he took his wand out and cast a Contraceptive Charm, raising an eyebrow at her as he did so.

‘Forgot that, didn’t you?’ he mocked, unbuttoning his shirt deftly as he spoke, one perfect eyebrow arched, Wand still in hand. ′ _Perfect Granger_ forgot to use contraception.′

‘Why does it matter?’ she asked dismissively. The _‘I’m going to die anyway’_ went unsaid, but it still hung in the air between them. She _had_ actually thought of it, but felt it was pointless to ask. She was as good as dead anyway. Why would he waste his magic on her?

She stepped away from him, trying to keep her eyes from straying to the planes of his chest as he shrugged his shirt off, letting it fall to the ground.

‘Caution never hurt anyone,’ was his even reply, even as he smiled ruefully and cast a quick Scourgify on her as well, much to her embarrassment, before tossing his wand towards his discarded shirt.

‘It’ll be quick,’ she said softly, hoping she sounded reassuring. The words sounded hollow even to her. ‘Just get it over with as fast as you can.’

They stared at each other for a few seconds, neither wanting to make the first move. Finally, Hermione shook her head, closing the distance between her and Malfoy. ‘Let’s do this.’

*****MMMMM*****

Malfoy nodded uneasily, but let his arms wrap around her. Pulling her down to the Cushioned cell floor, he gently pushed her shoulders down until she lay on her back. Hovering his body over hers, he dipped down to her neck, his lips ghosting tantalizingly over her skin. _What on earth?_

She froze, pushing him away so she could look at his face. _’What_ are you doing?′ she demanded, confused. Malfoy sighed, hiding his face behind his hand.

‘It will hurt less if you’re ready,’ he muttered, his ears turning pink.

_Was he embarrassed?_ Hermione gaped at him in surprise. ‘I didn’t think you’d care,’ she mused, raising her brows.

Malfoy shook his head condescendingly at her and resumed his earlier position, kissing his way from her neck to her collarbone. While she knew he was trying to ease her into the experience, she couldn’t completely quell her discomfort. Her mind was still too hung up on her possible impending death to actually focus on what he was doing.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Malfoy’s hand invade her knickers until he actually touched her slit.

She squeaked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. ’Warn me before you _do_ stuff like that!′ she hissed, but it came out much shriller than she’d intended.

Malfoy ignored her, giving her a frustrated look instead. ‘Merlin, Granger. You’re as dry as a bone! Is a lowly Death Eater not good enough for her Highness?’ he sneered. ‘At least try to pretend I’m someone else, Granger. I bet even that ugly Weasel would have you wetter than this.’ He sighed exasperatedly, stroking her lower lips rhythmically.

‘I can’t just get excited at command, Malfoy,’ she shot back self-consciously. ‘And it’s not like you’re aroused either.’ She grasped at the front of his pants impulsively to prove her point, only to encounter something unexpectedly hard.

He hissed in surprise, and she could feel him pulsing and straining beneath her fingers through the soft fabric. Her face turned bright crimson in embarrassment.

‘I -’ she began to apologise, but he cut her off sharply. _’Don’t._ Just don’t.′ He pushed himself away from her, rolling so he was lying on his back next to her, eyes fixed on the ceiling of her cell. ‘This was a bad idea,’ he breathed almost to himself.

_What if he changes his mind?_ was suddenly the only thought in Hermione’s head. At any point, he could decide that he didn’t want this, and walk away. And what would she do then?

He may not want Voldemort back, but she doubted he was as invested in preventing it as she was. _I can’t give him time to back out._

Desperate, Hermione threw herself at him, kissing him as hard as she could and rubbing their pelvises intimately. Malfoy shut his eyes with a gasp and froze, and she could feel his arousal strain against her, but he did not respond to her ministrations. After a few seconds with no response, she finally gave up, pulling away.

’Granger. _Granger!_ Stop it,′ Malfoy groaned out, his fingers locking around her waist and restraining her movement.

Hermione stilled in defeat, eyes tearing up with desperate frustration.

‘That was fucking hot,’ he gasped out, and she could tell he was trying to sound reassuring. He was still a bit breathless as he looked up at her face. ‘But don’t insult my intelligence by trying to seduce me, Granger. I’m not Lestrange.’ He sounded almost disappointed in her behaviour.

Hermione did her best to hide the sting of rejection and embarrassment she felt at his words, simply nodding, closing her eyes. Her traitorous tears, however, escaped through her closed lids, spilling down her face. She refused to acknowledge them, keeping her eyes firmly shut.

‘Fuck. Are you crying?’ Warm fingers gently wiped the tears from her face, and she opened her eyes to see Malfoy looking at her in concern. ‘Granger?’

‘No,’ she replied, realizing how pitiful the lie must sound to him the moment the words left her lips. What on Earth was wrong with her?

‘I’m an idiot,’ Malfoy muttered in response, leaning up to press his lips firmly against hers. ‘I didn’t mean to give you the impression that I was backing out, Granger,’ he reassured, running a hand comfortingly down her back while his other absently traced her lips. ‘I just needed a moment to patch up my bruised ego.’

Hermione studied his face for any trace of deception. Finding none, she let a small smile grace her lips. ’Your ego? Trust you to worry about your _ego_ even in the face of Voldemort’s return.′

‘Hmmm, we can’t all be as perfect and selfless as you, Granger,’ he replied distractedly, pulling her lips down to his once more. Hermione melted into him, enjoying the power it gave her as she invaded his mouth with her tongue, eliciting a soft moan from him.

_Getting emotionally involved is the last thing I want to do, she_ reminded herself, _especially with Malfoy._ Her movements were erotic, but mechanical, lacking any real passion. Kiss, caress, touch, kiss, caress, stroke, rinse and repeat.

Her robotic movements were somewhat impeded when, in a single neat move, Malfoy rolled them so that he was on top once more, pulling the straps of her bra off her shoulders. His kisses were turning frantic, almost violent, while his hands roamed her body freely as if they had a mind of their own.

_He obviously has no inhibitions about getting emotionally involved,_ she mused. Surprisingly, that only served to excite her.

He unclasped her bra completely and threw it to the side of the cell. Hermione gasped, desire burning through her veins as he played with her nipples, twisting and pinching them gently. She arched up to his hands, her eyes drifting shut as she let herself be lost in his ministrations. By the time he had finished with both her breasts, she was writhing in pleasure and desire, her knickers damp.

After couple of minutes, though, Hermione began to feel rather annoyed. It was like he’d forgotten the entire purpose of this encounter due what seemed to be a full-on obsession with her breasts.

‘Malfoy?’ Hermione breathed out, gripping his biceps so he was forced to stop and look up at her. ’Do you-do you think you could maybe _get on with it?′_

A slightly upset look crossed Malfoy’s face, but he nodded slowly, giving her nub a parting pinch before moving lower.

_Definitely an obsession with breasts,_ she thought, amused.

He smirked at her expression, which was a mix of impatience and arousal before hooking his thumbs around her knickers to take them off.

Hermione lifted her hips so he could slide them down. It was slightly humiliating how wet she was, and she realized why Malfoy had felt so embarrassed when she’d found out how aroused he had been.

Her knickers joined her bra in the cell corner and again, Malfoy just stared at her.

He reached down tenderly to stroke her. A gasp escaped her, lips parting in shock as his digits delved into her, brushing the small gathering of nerves. She moaned in pleasure, sliding her fingers through his hair, and moving her lips more forcefully against his.

Hermione didn’t want it to end – all she could think about was the fierce, consuming stimulation his hand was giving her. It was suddenly the only thing in the world that mattered. Her hips bucked wildly, waves of pleasure sizzling through her body as she exploded into a world of pleasure.

She could only watch from under heavily lidded eyes as he pulled back, stripping off his pants, his erection swelling before her.

However, when he spread her legs wider and positioned himself at her entrance, she felt her body tremble with uncertainty. Everything was suddenly too real. _What on Earth was she thinking?_

She put her hands on his chest to stop him. Maybe if they stopped now, she could think of a different plan. Something that was less bizarre than this madness, perhaps?

Malfoy’s eyes met hers, his head throbbing at her lips, but he didn’t enter her. One look at his face and she knew he wasn’t certain about this, either.

His hesitation actually made her braver. Hermione watched as her hands started to slide up his shoulders and hold onto the back of his neck, pulling him closer. She gave him a faint nod and a reassuring smile.

Taking her cue, he pushed forward forcefully, burying his entire length inside her slick channel. She gasped and shuddered breathlessly.

It was done – she wasn’t a virgin anymore. A triumphant smile broke across her face. _If only it was a better situation,_ she thought wryly, half expecting Malfoy to pull away now that his goal was reached.

But Draco Malfoy was still inside her, and she panted, holding onto him as tightly as she could. Fingers digging into her hips, he waited, keeping them still. His concerned eyes carefully examined every emotion running across her face.

At her reassuring smile, his lips crashed down to hers again. Her nails raked down his back while his fingers buried themselves in her thick hair. His body was hard against hers, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him as close as she possibly could.

_‘Fuck,’_ he hissed and grabbed a fistful of her hair, his hips suddenly pistoning, moving hard inside of her. His grip on her hair tightened, and Hermione arched up towards him, letting the sensations he was creating within her dictate her actions. His roughness excited her, and the higher he took her, the more she wanted.

‘Merlin, Malfoy,’ she whimpered softly, ’Oh _God…′_

Malfoy grunted, sliding his hands under her thighs and pulling her legs over his shoulders so he could push even deeper. Hermione felt like he was splitting her in two with his roughness. It shouldn’t feel satisfying, shouldn’t make the low, keening noises being ripped from her turn more and more shrill with each thrust.

The blood rushing through her was building up, moving towards a crescendo, and her entire body shook all over-it was unbearable, she needed it to end, she never wanted to stop. She shut her eyes as he pounded into her, giving her body to him completely. She was writhing beneath him, every nerve on edge.

Then she felt his hand at her chin. ‘Look at me,’ he commanded huskily. And she did.

She felt her walls clench around him, felt the pressure building low in her stomach. She was so close.

Hermione whimpered louder every time he thrust into her, feeling the wave coming, beckoning to her, threatening to consume her. She stared into Malfoy’s icy eyes, barely an inch away. She watched as his jaw slackened when she whined especially loud, as if he were astounded by the sounds he was eliciting from her.

His thumb grazed her softly and she lost it. Her eyes widened as her orgasm washed over her.

Malfoy moaned, open-mouthed, and his palm covered her lips roughly to muffle her screams. They couldn’t afford to be heard, and the Muffliato Charm was only designed to hide conversations, not cries.

Hermione thrashed, overcome as wave after wave of pleasure hit her, screaming out her ecstasy into the palm of his hand, eyes never leaving his awed gaze.

When she came down from the high, Malfoy was still pumping inside her. She brought her hands up to tear his palm away from her mouth but only got as far as grabbing onto his arm when a sudden change in the motion of his hips almost made her scream again.

She couldn’t believe he had been able to hold out this long, and if anything, he was only thrusting harder now. Her hips rose up to meet his as she wrapped her legs around him. Now that she had already come once, her walls were extremely tender, and the feeling was almost too much to bear, bordering on painful.

Malfoy was hitting that horrible, yet wonderful place inside her and sliding his tongue along her own. Every plunge sent another shock of pleasure rattling through her body, and it was altogether too much but still she wanted more.

Malfoy moaned as Hermione pulled his head back and sucked on his neck. He rubbed at her clit as if he was trying to wear it down, making her yelp in pleasure. It just added to the heat that swept through her body and made her whimper louder.

Hermione shut her eyes, clamped around him, and rode him for all she was worth. Her legs started to quiver. She felt another orgasm coming, coils of heat slowly unwinding within her. Malfoy growled and held her tighter.

_‘Please…’_ She wasn’t sure if she was begging him to stop or to move her harder. He did the latter. She felt herself vibrate and her teeth rattled as he slammed into her, plunging with all his strength. She was nearly there.

With a moan her fingernails raked down Malfoy’s back and she felt him shudder, gasp. This time as she came, she bit down on his neck to quiet her cries as Malfoy buried his seed within her.

*****MMMMM*****

They stayed like that for a minute, breathing hard, with him still inside of her. He finally pulled out of her and rolled over, his gasping barely under control.

Hermione took a deep shuddering breath. ‘We did it, Malfoy,’ she breathed. ’We _actually_ did it.′

_‘Obviously,’_ was his intelligent response as he stared at the ceiling of her cell from his position on the ground, disbelief colouring his tone. _‘We did it.’_

‘I know you said not to say thank you, but -’ Hermione began, sitting up slowly, and trying not to let her gaze wander over his defined chest. Or lower still.

_’Don’t,_ Granger,′ he cut her off harshly, quickly getting to his feet and reaching for his cloak. ‘We did what had to be done,’ he finished in a softer tone.

Hermione nodded, ignoring the way his gentle words pierced her heart more than his cruel ones. ’Very well, then. It was nice doing _business_ with you, Malfoy.′

A harsh chuckle met her words. ’Always a _pleasure,_ Granger,′ he replied. His eyes regarded her naked frame, and then he raised his Wand, casting another Scourgify on her to remove all traces of their activities.

Nodding gratefully, Hermione began pulling on her clothes, turning her back on Malfoy so that he could do the same. When she turned back around, Malfoy was fully dressed as well, leaning against the wall of her cell, watching her morosely.

‘You deserved better than me, Granger,’ he said sadly. ’I know you would’ve preferred Weasley or Potter, or hell, maybe even _Dumbledore,_ over scum like me. And you still managed to work with what you had.′ His face was drawn in sadness and admiration. ‘Every witch and wizard in England probably owes you more than they will ever know. I wish there was more I could do to help you.’

Hermione was too stunned by his speech to do more than stare at him as he leaned forward to brush his lips against hers one last time. Her eyes closed of their own accord and despite their rough activities less than five minutes ago, she felt desire course through her veins once more.

_’Thank you,_ Hermione Granger,′ he whispered against her lips.

When her eyes opened again, he was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> Beta Credit: SilverRiv (on fanfiction.net)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave and review! You'd make my day :)
> 
> ~craaazyaboutMalfoy


	7. Chapter 6: Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco gets a midnight visitor.

 Draco was in paradise.

He’d just slept with _Hermione Granger,_ and it had been fucking amazing. However, the high he was riding was unfortunately soured by the guilt he felt over the circumstances behind it.

He’d gone in expecting it to be emotionless and mechanical-just a chore to be done, just another item ticked off the to-do list.

But _she’d_ amazed him. No, more than that-she’d fucking _blown his mind._

And – although he’d never admit it – it wasn’t just the sex, either. It was _her._ All of her. Her drive and willpower. She knew what she wanted, and she went after it with complete determination. Almost like Voldemort.

But unlike the Dark Lord, she also possessed kindness, compassion, and selflessness. Gentleness. Loyalty. Bravery. Qualities he’d once scoffed upon.

He wished he could save her, take away her pain and give her everything under the sun. He wished he could be even half as brave as she was. Maybe then he would’ve helped her escape. If it had been Potter or Weasley in his place, they would have fought to get her out of there, not taken her innocence like the coWardly wretch that he was.

And as much as Draco hated himself, he just admired Granger more. He’d underestimated her, he knew now. He hadn’t realized just how deep her selflessness ran. She’d accepted her possible looming execution with a shrug and moved on to how she could minimize the overall damage.

The detachment in her tone had done it for him, the way she’d taken everything life threw at her, and still had the power to pick her battles. She made each fight count, and did not waste her time and energy crying over lost causes. He had wanted to worship her, to give himself over to her in every way possible, show her his support in the only way he could.

For the first time in a long time, he’d thought of someone other than himself; and it had felt _fucking liberating._

Slipping back to his wing of the Manor was child’s play, despite the heavy Death Eater patrols. He’d grown up exploring these halls, and knew of more secret passageways than both his parents put together.

However, as he approached his bedroom, it became clear that someone was waiting for him inside. The door was slightly ajar, with candle light spilling through the gap. He was certain he’d closed the door and blown out the candle before he left the room.

Draco instinctively reached for his wand uncertainly. Who could be in his room at this time of night?

The others couldn’t have known what he’d done, could they? Surely, he would’ve been killed by now if that was true. But what excuse could he provide for being out of bed at such a late hour?

Draco carefully swung the door open the rest of the way, wand drawn, and an Obliviate on the tip of his tongue. His wand dropped, however, as he recognized the profile of the woman sitting on the armchair in the corner of the room.

′ _Mother?′_

Narcissa Malfoy glanced up quickly, her face an expressionless mask. ‘Draco,’ she said, inclining her head towards him. ‘Come in.’

‘What are you doing here, Mother? It’s late.’ His mind was buzzing in panic, but he’d been raised to obey his parents without question, and he knew his mother well enough to believe that he ranked higher on her priorities than the Death Eaters, at least.

So he mimicked her expressionless mask with one of his own, entering the room and closing the door behind him.

The moment the door was shut, Narcissa locked and warded the room against eavesdropping and magical methods of spying. Draco leaned against the closed door and eyed her nervously. Could she have possibly found out what he had done? Was he in trouble?

He was _dead._ He was so, _so_ dead.

‘Draco,’ Narcissa smirked winningly, holding up an ancient tome. ‘I’ve found a way to prevent the Dark Lord’s return.’

_Wait, what?_ Draco tried not to sound too relieved as he replied. ‘That’s great, Mother,’ Draco grinned, a little too widely. She was so excited that she hadn’t even bothered enquiring about his midnight wanderings. ‘Do tell.’

‘I found the recipe for the Renascentia Potion -’ Narcissa held up _Moste Potente Potions,_ sounding almost like Professor McGonangall for a moment. Not that he would say that to her face of course. It was surprisingly amusing how much the two women despised each other.

‘- and it states that the binding for all the ingredients is the magical core of the marked followers,’ his mother continued excitedly, oblivious to his dangerous train of thought.

‘Marked?’ Draco pulled back his left sleeve, revealing the ugly Dark Mark across his skin, looking at her questioningly. ‘Like this?’

‘Exactly.’ Narcissa replied grimly. ‘So the Potion will have no effect if there are no Dark Marks.’

‘But how do we get rid of all the Dark Marks, Mother?’ Draco scoffed. ‘It’s not like we can remove them from everyone’s arms one by one while they’re asleep. Is there even a spell for that?’

‘I’ve found two spells in our Library,’ his mother revealed. ‘But the first one can only be used to remove one’s own Mark.’ She lifted her sleeve, revealing reddish, but otherwise unblemished skin where her Mark had once been.

‘And the other?’ Draco asked, impressed.

‘It’ll get rid of every single Mark,’ his mother replied evenly, but he could sense a condition coming up. ’But it’s extremely painful, and the spell can only be cast by someone who has _never_ worked in the Dark Lord’s name, or for his cause.′ She deflated visibly. ‘But I don’t know how we can reach someone like that. We have no way to contact the Order, and my every move is closely watched, as is yours.’

Draco smiled tentatively. ‘I think I know just the person.’

* * *

Draco lay on his back in bed after his mother left, staring at the ceiling above him and blinking back tears.

After the _enlightening_ conversation, Draco felt like hitting his head against the wall. Repeatedly. Until it bled.

Because there had been another way, after all – another way to stop Voldemort’s return. If he’d just _waited_ a little longer, or turned her down, if he’d bothered to meet his mother before he went down to see her, _if, if, if…_

If she didn’t hate him before, she’d _certainly_ hate him now. Because it had been pointless – her sacrifice had _literally_ been pointless. But, the selfish creature that he was, he couldn’t bring himself to regret what they’d done.

Not one damn bit.

So he pulled himself up and carefully made his way out of the Manor, disapparating back to the Forbidden Forest. Sneaking around was becoming something of a habit these days, he realized as he crept up to his dorm room, unnoticed by his sleeping housemates.

Zabini was already back and asleep, as were Goyle and Nott. Which meant there were no eyes on him, if only for a couple more hours.

Carefully Disillusioning himself, he grabbed a Quill and a sheaf of parchment from his desk before heading up to the Owlery. He needed allies, and there was only one person he could think of to approach for help.

_Time to bring Potter in on the plan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> Beta Credit: SilverRiv (on fanfiction.net)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave and review! You'd make my day :)
> 
> ~craaazyaboutMalfoy


	8. Chapter 7: Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween night

 The next two days passed way too slowly for Hermione’s liking.

It was as though time was intentionally slowing down, with Halloween Night hanging over her head like a guillotine, and memories of Malfoy smothering her dreams.

She knew it was foolish to dwell on it – they’d both done what needed to be done. She had no regrets. But somehow, she couldn’t help but wish that the circumstances had been different. While she could keep him out of her conscious thoughts, he still haunted her dreams.

He was a skillful and thoughtful lover – there was no denying that. He had ensured she felt minimal pain from the whole exercise, and worked to bring her pleasure. She couldn’t help but wonder why he’d bothered.

But more pressing than the intrigue that was Draco Malfoy, was the fact that her days were, literally, numbered. She wasn’t foolish enough to expect she’d survive past Halloween night, when the Death Eaters realized that their Potion had failed.

However, accepting that her death was inevitable didn’t mean she was necessarily happy about it.

She moped around her Cell, trying her best to ignore her own thoughts which were often along the lines of _‘How many hours do I have left now?’_ or _‘I wonder how many more breaths I can take before I have to die?’_

She realized how Harry must have felt after watching Snape’s memories, and learning the role he was expected to play in ending the war.

_Harry survived in the end,_ a hopeful voice said in a corner of her brain.

_The situation was completely different,_ her inner pessimist retorted.

They argued in circles in her head until she was certain she was going mad.

* * *

Finally, it was Halloween.

Icarus Zabini had arrived at her cell at two hours to midnight, wearing what she assumed were his finest robes, and his nastiest smirk.

After zigzagging through corridors until she lost all sense of direction, she was escorted into what appeared to be a luxurious bathroom and left there with a cold command to ‘Bathe.’

After scrubbing every inch of her skin as thoroughly as possible, she rose from the bathtub twenty minutes later, only to find that her clothes were missing. Hermione glanced around the bathroom once more, but there was no sign of them.

Resigned, she stepped out of the room in just a bathrobe, finding herself in what appeared to be an enormous dressing room.

Narcissa Malfoy was waiting for her next to a large mirror at the opposite end of the room.

The Malfoy matriarch said very little, and seemed unusually jumpy. But in ten minutes, the witch was done with her hair and make-up.

As the older woman slipped a lovely set of green dress robes over her head carefully, Hermione felt something inside the sleeve of her robe. It felt thin, long and cylindrical, like a stick or a – _a wand?_

Hermione’s eyes shot to the older Witch’s face, her gaze questioning. ‘Aim for the Dark Mark,’ Narcissa whispered, leaning close under the pretext of adjusting the sleeve of her robe. ‘The incantation is ’ _Morsmordre Finite Totalum.′_ ′

_Well, things just got a little more interesting,_ Hermione thought, bracing herself as she was led out of the Manor and into the starry night.

* * *

There were exactly thirty minutes left to midnight, and Hermione Granger was witnessing the most unusual sight.

A neon-blue Potion bubbled in the Cauldron as Icarus Zabini, assisted by Quincey Nott, worked over it in silence. So far, Hermione had watched as they threw in carefully measured quantities of what appeared to be Armadillo Bile, Pickled Toad Brains, Flobberworm Sap, Powdered Unicorn Horn, and a Quartered Bezoar.

They were still on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The Manor itself loomed eerily in the background. It was the perfect setting for Halloween. Despite the crowd, the only sounds to be heard were the bubbling contents of the cauldron, and the howling of the wind.

Other than the ones in Azkaban, all the surviving Death Eaters seemed to be present, in their Black Hooded Robes and Silver Masks, standing in a rough semicircle around the cauldron.

A live Unicorn and a Swedish Shortsnout were tethered with strong ropes and chains a few feet away from her.

Hermione’s eyes widened in horror. She’d been so concerned about her own predicament that she’d completely forgotten about the other ‘ingredients.’ While the Unicorn was merely picketed to a post, the Dragon was muzzled and appeared to have been drugged into submission. It snorted loudly, as if sensing her perturbed gaze, but its eyes remained closed.

The activist in Hermione was alarmed at the plight of the poor beasts, but she knew there was nothing she could do for them. She herself was unrestrained only because the Death Eaters knew that she was outnumbered and Wandless. The Anti-Disapparation Wards would prevent her from escaping easily enough. In addition, Alecto Carrow stood beside her, glaring down at her with a menacing scowl. _Obviously my babysitter for the evening,_ she thought glumly.

The wand hidden in her sleeve was the only comfort she had, but she knew she’d have to wait for the right moment to use-one wrong move and she was dead, with a twenty-five wands against hers.

A full moon shone overhead giving enough light for Hermione to see the hooded Death Eaters around her. Hermione let her gaze travel over their heads, trying to identify them. The hoods, however, severely impeded her efforts, although she was certain she recognized Rabastan Lestrange – he was leering at her from beneath his hood.

She was distracted from her scrutiny when gasps exploded among the Death Eaters. The liquid in the Cauldron began to bubble, glowing brightly and painting the clearing in blinding red light.

Nott hurried to the Unicorn, pulling it towards the cauldron, ignoring all its rearing and kicking. When it was less than a foot away, Zabini raised his wand, magically forcing the beautiful creature to raise its foreleg to hover above the mouth of the cauldron, ignoring its neighed protests.

Hermione watched in horrified fascination as Zabini made a shallow slice across the flesh of the extended limb with an ornate silver dagger, letting its shiny blood pour directly into the bubbling liquid below. As the Potion took on a silvery sheen, the spell holding it in place was released and the terrified Unicorn instantly bolted for the thick treeline at the edge of the clearing. The Death Eaters barely spared it a glance, their eyes glued to Zabini.

The Dragon was next, but it barely put up a fight as its forelimb, too, was stretched out over the cauldron. Its deep purple blood joined the mix, adding a pinkish tinge to the silvery red of the Potion.

Drugged out of its mind, the Dragon promptly collapsed in an undignified heap beside the cauldron, large black eyes drooping shut as blood continued to pour from its wounded limb.

Hermione, however, had no time to sympathize as she was up next – Carrow grabbed her roughly, pulling her over to the cauldron. She struggled against her vice-like hold futilely, and was roughly shoved towards Zabini for her efforts.

Before she could steady herself, Nott had grabbed her arm in an iron grasp, holding it over the bubbling liquid. She felt the heat from the Potion against her arm, sweat beading on her brow as she fought to escape the brawny wizard, even as Zabini raised his dagger over the palm of her hand.

‘The final ingredient,’ he announced to the gathered Death Eaters, his lips twisting triumphantly.

Stings of pain shot up her arm as her cut the skin of her palm in a single, neat stroke. Her blood flowed down her arm and she cried out in frustration as the first drop of it met the liquid below.

A blinding white light exploded from the Potion, painting the night in liquid silver. Zabini’s shocked eyes met hers, before his surprise made way for comprehension.

′ _No!′_ He turned on Hermione with furious eyes, backhanding her hard across the face. ’What have you _done,_ you _filthy Mudblood_ WHORE?′ He roared.

She flew back under the force of his blow, landing on the grass as he advanced, radiating murderous rage. She could taste blood in her mouth from where her lip had split from the force of his blow.

Still, Hermione glared up at him, refusing to flinch. ‘What had to be done,’ she replied, twisting her lips into a defiant smirk, while simultaneously pulling out the wand hidden in her sleeve in one neat move.

It was smooth and familiar in her hand, and her Magic surged through it and back, as if in greeting. It was her first wand, the one she’d lost when she’d been captured by Snatchers before the Battle of Hogwarts. Not Bella’s, which she’d been using as a substitute ever since. It was _her_ wand. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the luxury of time to properly celebrate.

She aimed at the advancing wizard’s arm, ignoring the furious glare he was levelling at her. _‘Morsmordre Finite Totalum!’_ she yelled, praying it worked.

Her wand emitted a jet of yellow light that hit the Dark Mark right in the middle, making it glow an acidic poison green. Zabini dropped to his knees, his own wand forgotten as he screamed in pain. He clutched at his left forearm, where his Mark was now bubbling and hissing with greenish-black fluid.

Hermione didn’t stand around to watch. She may be going down, but she’d certainly take as many of them with her as possible. Scrambling to her feet, she spun around to face the rest of the Death Eaters, wand at the ready.

The sight that greeted her, however, was not what she’d expected. Nearly every Death Eater in the clearing was writhing, much like Zabini. Groans and screams of pain filled the clearing.

She couldn’t stand by and watch this anymore. Sighing, she reigned in her nerves and reached deep into her magical core before muttering under her breath, _‘Stupefy!’_

Battle Magic coursed through her, before leaving the tip of her wand in one huge ripple of energy. The grass under her feet was charred black, and all the hooded figures were Stunned instantly.

Hermione collapsed with them, drained by the sheer amount of Power she had just depleted on a single spell. She’d effectively incapacitated them to prevent escape, and numbed their pain from the burning Mark. Despite the fatigue, however, she felt a sense of contentment. She may die of exhaustion, but she would be taking every single Death Eater down in the process.

‘Granger!’ Warm arms wrapped around her, lifting her gently, bridal style. Hermione struggled to see his face through the dark spots in her eyes. The voice was familiar, and something stirred within her at the pain she could sense in it. _Malfoy,_ her brain supplied, but she was too far gone to comprehend what a Malfoy was.

‘Granger, look at me, dammit! Open your eyes!’ the voice insisted, sounding more desperate now. She struggled to do as it said, but her muscles refused, her body too exhausted to so much as twitch an eyelid. It was a miracle she was still conscious.

’Hermione? Oh, Merlin. _Tribuo Potestatem!′_ She felt a jolt to her chest as trickles of Power flowed into her body, reviving the fading sparks of her magical core, even as she felt it flickered feebly, threatening to die.

′ _Expecto Patronum!′_ The voice shouted. There was a flare of silvery light so bright that it filtered through her closed eyelids, before dissolving back to black nothingness.

Pops of Apparition sounded in the clearing all around her, and she heard several familiar but angry voices before she let herself drift into unconsciousness. Her wand slipping from her fingers was the last thing she remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> Beta Credit: SilverRiv (on fanfiction.net)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave and review! You'd make my day :)
> 
> ~craaazyaboutMalfoy


	9. Chapter 8: Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath

When Hermione woke up next, she was in a private ward in St. Mungo’s.

A bowl of warm soup sat on the bedside table, and after her week of self-induced starvation, she happily dived for it. Not even bothering with a spoon, she brought the rim of the bowl to her lips and started gulping it down directly, ignoring its scalding heat.

’Whoa, ‘Mione, slow down! It’s piping hot!’ The bowl tugged itself from her hands firmly, and Harry Potter grinned at her indignant expression, shaking his head fondly. He stood at her bedside in heavily creased Auror robes, looking tired but happy. ‘How are you doing?’

‘I’m fine, Harry. It’s good to see you.’ she replied convincingly, her eyes never leaving the bowl hovering just out of her reach. ‘I haven’t had a decent meal in weeks! Now give me the soup!’

‘I’m surprised you can still talk,’ he murmured, muttering a cooling charm at her tongue, then at the soup bowl. ‘Should I be worried about you turning into a complete savage?’ he teased, still holding the bowl just out of the reach of her desperate fingers.

‘Just this once?’ she pleaded, pouting so adorably that he just _had_ to give in.

‘Just this once,’ he conceded, letting her pounce at the soup bowl. ‘Can’t have another Ron around here now, can we? One is bad enough.’

‘Thanks, Harry,’ she grinned happily at him, hunger overriding her need to feel affronted at his comment. She downed the rest of the soup in a single large gulp. ‘Any chance I can get sandwiches, too?’

‘They’re already on the way,’ he assured fondly.

‘How long was I out?’ she asked tentatively. Considering the amount of power she’d put into the Battle Spell, she was surprised to be alive in the first place. A week would be a generous estimate.

‘Just a few hours.’ Harry replied, brows raised. ’And you can thank Malfoy for that. The last spell performed with his wand was a Patronus Charm, and before that, it was _Tribuo Potestatem._ ′

Hermione blinked in surprise, translating the Latin phrase in her mind. A Power-Transfer Spell. She hadn’t even known it was possible. Vaguely she remembered the spell being cast, right when she was on the brink of unconsciousness.

‘So you want to tell me what happened?’ Harry asked, recognizing her puzzle-solving expression.

Memories of her time in the Manor’s dungeons filtered through her mind, and she stiffened slightly. There was no way she could tell him everything, she realized. ‘What do you need to know?’ she evaded uncertainly.

Harry sighed, catching her uneasiness. ’Well, all I _do_ know is I got an owl about three days ago claiming that someone knew your location, and would send a Patronus on Halloween Night so we would know when and where to come and find you. I wasn’t sure if they’d demand a ransom, or if it was a friend or foe, so I put together a team of the best Aurors and settled down to wait at the Ministry. So imagine my surprise when a Snake Patronus appears at midnight to tell us you were on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. We apparated to Malfoy Manor to find the wards down – and those were blood wards, mind you, so either Draco or Narcissa had to have done it – and then there you were, unconscious in Malfoy’s arms.′ Harry paused uncertainly, as if he were expecting her to comment.

When she said nothing, he simply continued the story. ‘It was quite a sight. Death Eaters everywhere, all unconscious, with their Dark Marks burnt off. There was some Potion there too, and our Department for Magical Catastrophes is working on identifying it as we speak. Of course, I noticed all that only later. At first all I could see was you and Malfoy. Are you two...’ he paused delicately, eyes intent on her face. ‘You haven’t been seeing each other recently or anything, have you?’

Hermione squirmed internally, trying not to blush at the question. Should she lie? What if he found out later?

‘You know you can tell me anything, Hermione,’ he prodded. ’I won’t judge, _or_ tell Ron, I swear.′

That sealed it, then. She could be partially honest, at least. ‘It was just a one-time deal,’ she admitted hesitantly, her cheeks blazing.

He looked genuinely surprised. ’Huh. I could’ve _sworn –_ never mind. You’ll figure it out.′

Before she could ask what he meant, however, her other best friend, Ron Weasley, arrived -and he was carrying a large stack of Mrs. Weasley’s corn and spinach sandwiches. That effectively called for a break in conversation as they all dug in.

By the time the boys left, a couple of hours later, Hermione had recounted a heavily censored version of events for the Aurors’ record – carefully glossing over sensitive portions while still managing to paint the Malfoys in a heroic light. It was the least she could do for them in return, she supposed. They were the only reason she was still alive and breathing.

She’d managed to sneak in a question about the Malfoys without drawing suspicion (at least not from Ron), and had learned that while both Draco and Narcissa were in custody along with the other Death Eaters, it was a mere formality. There would be a trial, after which they were to be cleared of all charges in exchange for testifying against the others. The whole process would take a week at most. What seemed to bother Harry most, though, was the lack of the slightest blemish on the arms of both Malfoys – the other Death Eaters had had terrible burn marks, which had been deemed impossible to cure, even by magical methods.

Well, maybe she could sneak a visit to Draco once she got out of the hospital, she thought morbidly, staring at the ceiling in her private ward. She should at least thank him properly for everything he and his mother had done for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> Beta Credit: SilverRiv (on fanfiction.net)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave and review! You'd make my day :)
> 
> ~craaazyaboutMalfoy


	10. Chapter 9: Judged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's Trial

‘Hey, Malfoy,’ she said softly. ‘Mrs. Malfoy,’ she added, glancing over his shoulder at his mother. She merely nodded back, before returning to staring at the wall.

‘Granger,’ Draco responded, smirking. ‘What are you doing here? How did you get in?’

It had been just four days ago that he’d gone to visit her in the Manor’s dungeons, and yet here they were, with her visiting him in the Ministry of Magic’s holding cell. The reversal of roles seemed altogether comical now, even as he surveyed her nervousness at their surroundings. Not that he blamed her.

The Ministry’s holding area was overflowing with Death Eaters, with five sharing each cell due to _‘lack of space.’_ Draco had scoffed at that. They were _Wizards,_ for Merlin’s sake. Extension Charms were created for a reason, right? Not for Death Eaters, apparently.

However, he and his mother had a cell to themselves, thanks to Potter’s influence. On the downside, however, the cell across the corridor from them held Icarus Zabini, and the man’s withering glares were grating on Draco’s nerves. Granger’s presence only seemed to incense him further, but this only served to make Draco feel a little smug.

‘I’m a Granger, Malfoy. Do you think I can’t find my way through the Ministry undetected?’ she demanded, acting offended. She was studiously ignoring the glares from Zabini and his cell mates. Her tense shoulders, however, told him she was still uncomfortably conscious of it.

Draco was surprised at the surge of protectiveness he felt towards her at that moment. He felt an urge to shield her from the man’s view, to place himself between them and protect her. The bars on his cell door prevented him from acting on his whim, though, and he was pretty certain Granger did not need his help anyway. Her display with Battle Magic on Halloween night was proof enough.

‘So you’re here. What now?’ He asked grinning at her cockily, but smartly lowering his voice to a whisper so that they weren’t overheard. ‘Because if we’re gonna play out events like they did back home, you’ll have to sneak into my cell in the middle of the night, right?’

Granger’s cheeks flushed a bright red, but her expression remained calm as she shook her head and smirked back. ‘How’s the arm?’

Draco smirked wider, showing her the unblemished skin of his forearm. ’Mother and I removed our marks before the ceremony. Your way was effective, but too painful, don’t you agree? _Someone_ had to be able to call those idiots who call themselves Aurors.′

‘You could have given me that spell – did you think of how much easier it would have been?’

Draco shook his head. ‘That spell would only work if it was performed willingly, and can remove only one mark at a time. I doubt you’d be fast enough to get them all.’

‘You really thought this one through, didn’t you?’ Granger commented, grasping the bars separating them. ‘I know you don’t want to hear this, but thank you for everything, Malfoy. I think I may have been wrong about you.’

Draco nodded uncomfortably, before not-so-subtly changing the topic. ‘So what brings you here then? I know you didn’t go through the trouble of sneaking in here just to admire my flawless skin.’ His smirk returned at her flustered expression. Zabini glowered at them from the opposite cell, but Granger, who had her back turned on him, didn’t notice, and Draco chose to ignore him.

‘I’m actually here to fix up our story,’ she whispered, leaning closer. ‘For your trial.’

Draco caught what she was getting at. ‘You don’t want people to know about what we did,’ he stated, a pang in his chest at the thought. It wasn’t an unreasonable request by any means, but he couldn’t help the way his chest constricted painfully at the thought that she might be ashamed of them, of what they’d shared.

Granger’s eyes softened as she took in his hurt expression. ‘It isn’t because I regret what we did, Malfoy. I still think it was the right thing. But do you think other people will understand that?’ She huffed angrily. ‘You’d be accused of brainwash, rape, and god knows what else. The Wizengamot will twist the story around as an excuse to lock you away. It’s better this way, at least until your trial, okay?’ Her eyes were tender even as they bore into his.

Draco nodded reluctantly, feeling slightly better. She was right, of course. But in a way, he also felt a little guilty. Pushing his crazy emotions aside, he met her gaze squarely. ‘So what’s the official story?’

Granger grinned smugly back. ‘Oh, you’re not going to like it.’

* * *

The Malfoy trial, which happened the very next day, was a quick affair-it only took four hours as opposed to the usual 3-4 days.

The story was straightforward enough – the only change was in the order of events. In the ‘official’ version, the sex came before she was captured, one lonely night in the deserted Library. The Death Eaters had simply _assumed_ she was a virgin. The Malfoys then helped her escape – which was true enough, she supposed.

The Wizengamot swallowed their story easily enough, with a few raised eyebrows among the more conservative members at the notion of premarital sex. If they noticed any inconsistencies in her story, however, they were wise enough not to comment under Granger’s threatening glare.

Thus, Draco and Narcissa were officially cleared of all charges related to Death Eater activities, mostly due to testimonies from Potter and Granger as well as the invaluable information they both provided.

Granger received her second Order of Merlin (First Class), becoming the youngest Witch, and the only Muggleborn, to have received the award twice.

And the moment he was a free man, the first thing Draco did was thoroughly snog the hell out of Hermione Jean Granger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> Beta Credit: SilverRiv (on fanfiction.net)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave and review! You'd make my day :)
> 
> ~craaazyaboutMalfoy


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the Hogwarts library...

When Draco returned to Hogwarts after the trial, he felt strangely relieved.

All the remaining Death Eaters were being tried and sentenced to Azkaban. He, on the other hand, was now finally free to live his life as he pleased.

He still received icy glares and cold shoulders from many students, some because they hadn’t forgotten his role in the war, others because of his more recent betrayal. He ignored them all.

They hated him, but he was used to being hated. All he wanted was for life to go back to some semblance of normalcy – as close as possible to how his third year had been – no living in fear, fewer nightmares, no tortured screams in the middle of the night.

And he got his wish. He was content. And then his life was changed once more, but this time, he welcomed it. It all began when the annoying know-it-all Muggleborn witch, _Hermione Granger,_ asked him out.

Draco couldn’t have been happier.

She’d approached him in the Great Hall on his first day back and given him a scroll with a list of things she wanted to apologise to him for.

The parchment had been over a foot long, and while the first few things on the list were actually worth apologising for, like ′ _for accusing you of being no better than your father,′ ‘for ignoring your warnings,’ ‘for calling you a slimy little ferret,’_ and _’for_ using _you for the Greater Good’_ the later ones were quite humorous, _like ‘for not asking you out sooner,’ ‘for being so sexy,’_ and _‘for making you want me.’_

′ ** _For not asking you out sooner,′_** she’d written.

He’d sought her out and asked her about it in the Library the next day, a tiny smirk on his lips. ‘You stole my lines, Granger.’

‘You read the whole thing?’ She’d teased, reaching up boldly to ruffle his hair.

He’d just gaped back. No one, _no one,_ touched his hair. _Ever._

But he couldn’t find the heart to reprimand her, even as she continued to speak. ’I just wanted to make the list seem long. Didn’t think you’d _actually_ sit and read it all.′ She grinned widely, slipping out of her chair to straddle his lap, acting completely out of character – for her.

‘Are you trying to ask me out?’ He’d asked, slightly giddy in disbelief.

‘I guess I am.’ She’d grinned widely, perhaps a bit _too_ widely. ‘So either accept or decline before I lose my nerve and embarrass myself further.’

‘Hogsmeade this weekend?’ he’d suggested tentatively, his surprise dissolving into hope.

She’d smiled, lowering her lips till they were mere inches from his, and ignoring the pointed glare she was receiving from the librarian. ‘That would be lovely. Now kiss me.’

And that was when Draco Malfoy realized he had fallen for Hermione Granger. Hard.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> Beta Credit: SilverRiv (on fanfiction.net)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave and review! You'd make my day :)
> 
> ~craaazyaboutMalfoy


	12. Bonus Chapter 1: Draco's Halloween

Draco watched silently from among the mass of hooded and cloaked figures as Granger was pushed towards the cauldron. The wind felt cool on the now unblemished skin of his left forearm, but he was too tense to enjoy the liberating feeling.

_What in Merlin’s name is she waiting for?_ He wondered anxiously, brow furrowing. _She has a wand, so why isn’t she using it?_

He winced as the Zabini slashed the knife across her palm. The moment her blood touched the Potion, Draco knew she was as good as dead. _Use the fucking wand!_ he wanted to shout.

The Potion flared a bright white, blinding him momentarily. When his eyes returned to Granger, Zabini was landing a strong blow on the side her face.

‘Mother, it’s time to lower the wards,’ he whispered to the woman next to him. He didn’t wait to see her nod of acknowledgement, or to watch her sneak away towards the Manor.

Eyes only for the brown haired girl ahead, he began to move towards her as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself. She had her wand out now, and with a quick spell, cries of pain filled the clearing as everyone around Draco dropped to their knees in pain, clutching at their Dark Marks.

Draco held in an exclamation of triumph. _They’d done it!_ They’d ensured that the Potion would never work-ever again.

His triumph was short lived, however, as the he watched Granger’s face morph into one of pity as she surveyed the Death Eaters before her. Time seemed to slow down as she raised her wand once more.

_She’s gonna do something stupid,_ his brain supplied, even as he reflexively raised his own wand and shouted, _‘Protego!’_

The shield expanded around him just a second before a ripple of energy exploded through the clearing. It rammed against his Shield Charm, tossing him off his feet.

The Death Eaters around him dropped like flies, the sudden silence ringing eerily around them.

Hermione was dropping to her knees on the grass ahead, and Draco felt the frantic urge to shake her for her foolishness. At that moment, though, that was probably a bad idea. It was a miracle she was still alive, considering the strength of the spell she’d used. A Stunner, he surmised.

‘Granger!’ Draco shouted, praying for a response as he carefully lifted her off the ground. Her eyes opened at his words, but they were glassy, as if she were asleep, or – no, he refused to finish that sentence.

Her eyelids drooped once more and Draco had never felt more terrified in his life.

‘Granger, look at me, dammit! Open your eyes!’ He pleaded desperately. She did not respond as he carried her to the edge of the clearing, away from all the Stunned Death Eaters.

‘Hermione? Oh, Merlin,’ Her first name slipped through his lips as he realized, with rising horror that her Magical core was probably eating into her life force now in order to keep it alive. Which meant she was dying.

There was only one thing he could do to save her now. The spell was an ancient Pureblood secret, a sacred bonding of magical cores. It was often used in Pureblood weddings as a sign of unity, of strength. He knew that could only be performed with one person in his lifetime, and the bond would be one-sided, but permanent. Draco, however, was beyond caring. In that moment, Granger’s survival was the only thing that mattered to him. With the tip of his wand hovering over her chest, he yelled, _‘Tribuo Potestatem!’_

Draco felt the effects of the bond immediately, as she began to absorb his magic. Gritting his teeth, he set about the last bit of the plan, which Granger had delayed with her little stunt. _Focus,_ he told himself, even as his mind drifted to her expression as she’d explained how, since she was dying anyway, she’d prefer not to bring Voldemort back in the process. ‘You’re not dying on my watch, Granger,’ he murmured softly. _‘Expecto Patronum!’_

His silver snake Patronus disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, but it must have served its purpose because almost instantly, pops of Apparition echoed all around them.

Potter was the first one on the scene, and his piercing eyes instantly found Granger lying awkwardly in him arms.

‘Hermione!’ He rushed towards them, Death Eaters forgotten. Noticing her shallow breaths, he turned on Draco, wand raised. ‘What happened?’ he demanded.

‘She played the Hero, that’s what,’ Draco grumbled, ignoring the wand pointed squarely between his eyes. He’d probably go cross-eyed trying to focus on it, anyway. ‘Get her to St. Mungo’s, Potter. I’m not going anywhere just yet.’ Aurors were swarming all around them, so there was no chance that Draco could just disappear without at least one of them noticing.

Potter nodded, his eyes focused on Draco’s hand. Following his gaze, Draco realized he’d been holding Granger’s hand. _Bugger._ He couldn’t remember slipping his hand into hers in the first place.

He quickly slid away from her, but the damage was probably already done. _Potter’s gonna bury me in Azkaban for the rest of my life,_ he thought, his eyes drifting to Granger’s face. Would he ever see her again? _Would she care?_

When he looked back at Potter, though, Potter’s wand was nowhere in sight. ‘Let’s get her to St. Mungo’s, then,’ he said, eyes sparkling. ‘I’m certain the other Aurors won’t mind if you come along, before we head back to the Ministry.’

Draco tilted his head, pretending to consider the offer. His choice was already made. This may well be the last time he got to be around Granger before he was sentenced to Azkaban or worse. He might as well make the most of it.

‘As you wish, Potter,’ he drawled, pulling himself to his feet slowly. The Power Transfer Spell was already weakening him, and his knees gave out before he was even upright. Granger’s added weight did not help things.

Potter seized him roughly by his shoulder, easily pulling Hermione into his own arms in the same move. ‘Maybe we need to have you checked up, too,’ Potter muttered. ‘Grab on!’

Draco grasped Potter’s sleeve tightly, and with another little ‘pop,’ the three of them Disapparated away, leaving the clearing full of Death Eaters and Aurors behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> Beta Credit: SilverRiv (on fanfiction.net)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave and review! You'd make my day :)
> 
> ~craaazyaboutMalfoy


	13. Bonus Chapter 2: Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happily ever after?

Narcissa Malfoy stalked down the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley. In the six months since the end of the War, the Alley had recovered remarkably well. The streets were packed with last minute Christmas shoppers, and she watched them with disdain, having completed her own shopping months in advance.

No, she wasn’t here to shop, despite the excuse she had given Draco that morning. She knew for a fact that the Mudb – _Muggleborn_ girl, the one her son was so smitten with, would be here today.

Cissa was no fool. While the girl would be stain on the purity of the Malfoy bloodline, she knew nothing she said or did would make her son change his mind. Besides, the boy had foolishly ensured that no self-respecting Pureblood girl would marry him, anyway.

Chestnut locks caught her eye, and she saw the girl in question heading her way. _Perfect._ She was dressed in Muggle clothes, and still carrying that ridiculously ugly beaded bag she always seemed to have on her person.

Striding purposefully, and wearing her best intimidating expression, she approached the girl.

’Ah, Ms. Granger! Fancy seeing _you_ here.′ A cool smile made its way to her lips as she help out a hand for the younger woman to shake.

‘Mrs. Malfoy,’ the girl acknowledged, shaking the proffered hand firmly. Cissa tried not to be impressed by her unaffected response. Even most pureblood girls faltered under her cold glare.

‘How are you today?’ the little chit enquired, perfectly mimicking Cissa’s own tone of polite indifference.

Narcissa’s smile warmed a tiny bit. _Well, well. Mudblood or not, this girl might prove worthy of the Malfoy name after all,_ Narcissa mused internally. ‘I am quite well, Ms. Granger, if a bit famished. Would you be inclined to join me for tea at the Leaky Cauldron?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ the girl replied dryly, shrugging as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her pants. _Pants?_ _What self-respecting woman wore pants?_ Cissa scoffed disdainfully to herself as she led the way to the noisy inn.

Tom, the smarmy innkeeper, took one glance at her and quickly escorted them to a private back room with a table and two chairs.

‘Just tea will do,’ Narcissa ordered, as she sat down elegantly. The girl followed suit, settling into the chair across from her.

Tom nodded, turning to leave. ‘I’ll have a few of your crumpets, as well,’ the girl called after him. Both Narcissa and the innkeeper stared at her in shock. She just ignored them, grabbing a copy of Witch Weekly from the table and flipping through it.

Tom recovered first. ‘Of course, Ms. Granger,’ he replied, bowing slightly and stumbling out of the room.

‘I’m guessing there was a reason you sought me out?’ The girl asked once the man was gone. Her eyes stayed on the magazine, which she continued to flip through disinterestedly as she spoke.

For the third time that day, Narcissa was shocked at the girl’s behaviour, which so reminded her of her own from when she was in Hogwarts. Narcissa had approached her as she would any other Gryffindor, but this one clearly played like a Slytherin. Different tactics, then.

‘Draco appears smitten with you.’ Narcissa stated, ignoring the girl’s question. ‘And now I see why.’

‘Do you?’ was the response, as the girl watched her curiously.

Cissa sighed, giving up on subtlety. ‘Do you intend to marry him?’ she asked bluntly, watching the girl deflate at the question.

_′_ _Marry_ him?′ she inquired, looking puzzled. ‘He hasn’t asked me to.’

Narcissa glared at her balefully. ’Do not _mock_ me, Ms. Granger. I assure you, I don’t take kindly to it. I’m willing to tolerate you since helped rid us of the Dark Lord, but I will not stand by and let you toy with my son’s future. No pureblood woman will even consider Draco after everything he’s sacrificed for you, yet here you sit, mocking me.′

The girl just stared back at her, as though trying to solve a difficult puzzle. ‘I don’t understand what you are trying to imply, Mrs. Malfoy,’ she finally replied. ’But I assure you that Draco has never once _brought up_ the topic of marriage. We just started dating a few weeks ago. Marriage is the last thing on our minds.′

‘You really don’t know,’ Cissa realized, her anger dissolving to irritation as she sat back in her chair. _What was her son playing at?_

‘I suppose this conversation can wait, then. I’ll be seeing you.’ She let a threatening note enter her voice as she rose from her seat, and was impressed when the girl refused to be intimidated.

‘Good bye, Mrs. Malfoy,’ the Granger girl returned with polite indifference. Narcissa, however, could clearly see the confusion in her guarded eyes. ’I look forward to seeing you again as well. _And if Draco and I ever discuss marriage, I promise you’ll be the first to hear about it.′_

* * *

The library was nearly empty when Hermione slammed _Complex Magical Theories_ shut with a sigh, before adding it to the growing pile of books she’d already looked through.

Lunch began in another ten minutes, and she was yet to make any progress on her research.

Hermione had once prided herself for knowing every major Spell necessary for the War. Yet the Power Transfer Spell that Draco had used to save her wasn’t in _any_ of the Defensive Magic tomes she’d been able to get her hands on.

She’d then looked in the Charms and Magical Theory sections, only to meet with even more disappointment. There wasn’t a single comment or even a _footnote_ that was relevant to her search.

When the Spell had come up at the Malfoy trial, even a few of the rigid Wizengamot members had shared significant looks before staring pointedly at the two of them. And Narcissa Malfoy had looked horrified, her piercing eyes meeting Hermione’s confused ones for the first time since the trial began.

Draco, of course, had point-blank refused to answer her questions about it. All he would tell her was that she should never attempt the Spell on anyone, _ever_ – which only made Hermione all the more curious. Further, the secrets were creating a rift between them.

Ignoring the librarian’s annoyed glare, Hermione carefully gathered up her large pile of books, before heading back to the shelves she’d taken them from.

‘Granger,’ The voice was unmistakable, and she could hear his smirk even before she saw it. He was leaning against the bookshelf behind her, looking smug as ever.

‘Draco,’ she acknowledged stiffly, her frustration with her research leaking into her tone.

‘Find anything yet?’ he asked, his tone strange combination of taunting and concerned.

‘Not yet,’ she huffed, before stubbornly adding, ‘But I will.’

‘Or you could just let it go.’

′ _Or_ you could just tell me what’s so special about this Spell,′ Hermione countered effortlessly. They’d been over it so many times that this argument was practically scripted by now.

‘You know I can’t do that.’

‘And why not?’

’I just _can’t,_ Granger.′

This was the point where she usually gave up and changed the subject.

_Screw the script._ She was going into uncharted territory now. ‘It’s a Pureblood secret, isn’t it? That’s why you won’t tell me.’

Draco flinched, and she knew she was right. ‘I guess I was wrong about you, Malfoy. You haven’t changes all that much after all.’ She turned and strode away, anger plain on her face.

As Draco watched her retreating figure, he realized he was utterly and completely screwed.

* * *

_Three years later…_

Draco was at work, pulling a late night at his desk in the Auror office, when it finally happened. He’d known it was inevitable, of course, but he’d always thought he’d be able to handle the pain when it came. He tried to muffle his grunts as his hand clenched over his chest, the air escaping him in gasps and pants. His hand ripped open his work robes, dreading, but knowing exactly what he’d find – a burn in the shape of an ‘X’ was forming over his heart, almost as if he was being branded.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t nearly as quiet as he’d hoped, and Potter, the only other Auror stupid enough to work so late, was at his side in moments.

‘Malfoy? What happened?’ he demanded frantically, searching for a foe that didn’t exist.

‘Nothing. I’m fine. Go back to work,’ Draco wheezed out, shaking his head weakly in warning.

Potter didn’t seem convinced. ’You don’t _seem_ fine, Malfoy. Quit playing the hero. Let’s get you to St. Mungo’s.′

He reached forward to take Draco’s arm, but Draco recoilded quickly, hissing in agony. ‘They can’t do anything for me, Potter. It’ll pass.’

Potter hovered uncertainly, eyes wide. ‘At least tell me what’s happening,’ he compromised, leaning over the shaking blonde in concern, his piercing green eyes landing on the fresh burn. ‘That looks like it could use some salve,’ he added.

Draco shook his head, through his pain, even as the burn turned redder. ‘It’s – none of your – business, Potter,’ he spat.

Potter glared back. ’It _is_ my concern when my best Auror is writhing on the floor with mysterious burns on his chest!′ he exploded angrily. ‘Now, you can tell me what is wrong, and let me help you, or you can go with me to St. Mungo’s.’

Draco considered his options. There wasn’t a choice here, not really. ‘Granger. She’s sleeping with someone right now.’ He hadn’t seen Granger since Hogwarts, so he didn’t know if she had been seeing anyone since then. But she’d been celibate. Till tonight.

Potter blinked. _‘What?’_

Draco ignored him, sighing in relief as the pain, which had been growing sharper by the second, suddenly disappeared, leaving behind just a dull throbbing. ‘That was over pitifully quickly,’ he couldn’t help commenting.

Potter was still staring at him, but Draco could almost see the cogs turning in his brain. ‘How would you know that?’

_Oh crap._

‘I’m a seer?’ he tried, and Harry shook his head angrily, his eyes snapping to interrogator mode. Draco gulped, knowing he’d be spilling all his secrets that night.

* * *

When Draco got back from work a couple of days later, he was greeted with a sharp slap that sent his ears ringing the moment he stepped through the door. Wand instantly in hand, he struggled to orient himself and find the threat. What he found, though, stopped him short. ‘Granger?’

Her eyes were red, hair knotted messily as she stood before him, clad in casual Muggle clothes.

‘How did you get past the wards?’ was the first question past his shocked lips.

Granger let out a short snort with no real humour. ‘I’m a curse breaker. And your wards were, frankly, pathetic.’ She moved away from the doorway where she’d ambushed him, heading to the kitchen area of his simple one bedroom apartment, where she seemed completely at home.

‘What are you doing here?’ He finally managed, not moving from the doorframe.

‘Invading your privacy,’ she replied icily, grabbing a soda from his fridge. ‘Now you know how it feels.’ The lid popped open by itself, and Draco was impressed at her Magical prowess, even as he realized Potter had probably told Granger about his little incident.

‘It’s not so bad,’ he commented, finally stepping into his house and hanging up his coat. ‘Make yourself at home,’ he added acerbically.

He settled on his couch, carefully watching her as she moved fluidly through his tiny kitchen, occasionally sipping her soda. ‘You’re cooking?’ he asked, confused.

‘There was nothing to eat in your fridge,’ she shrugged, stirring the contents of a pan on the stove. ‘I hope you like Italian.’

Draco didn’t know how to respond to that, so he ignored it. ‘Are you going to tell me why you’re here?’ he tried again.

‘Set the table,’ she replied, pulling the pan off the stove with one final stir.

Draco raised his brows, but wisely did as he was told, not bothering to get out of his work clothes.

A few minutes later, they were both sitting at his tiny dining table, plates of pasta before them, when Hermione finally spoke.

‘Harry told me what happened.’ She let the words hand in the air between them for a few seconds, as if expecting him to say something. When he didn’t, she frowned at him. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

‘What did you want me to say, Granger?’ he sniffed, shaking his head.

She glared back. ’Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a “Granger, we’re fucking _married”_ would’ve been nice.′

Draco snorted. ’Technically, Granger, _I’m_ married to you. _You_ , on the other hand, are absolutely fucking single, and free to do whatever and _whoever_ you please.′

Granger’s eyes widened, her anger melting into confusion. ‘How does that even work?’

Draco sighed. ‘That Power-Transfer Spell you were bugging me about, remember? It was part of a Pureblood marriage ritual. A bonding of Magical cores. I initiated the bond that day because it was the only way you’d survive.’

Granger’s face hardened. ’Why didn’t you tell me then, that day in the Library? My filthy blood wasn’t good enough for you? Were you _ashamed_ of –′

_′_ _No,_ Granger!′ The protest left his lips before he realized what he was saying. She looked startled at his vehemence, so Draco took her momentary silence as a chance to interrupt her tirade. ’I was _afraid._ We’d barely begun seeing each other, and marriage wasn’t something I even took into consideration back then. I was scared you’d run from me if you ever found out. That it’d complicate things, maybe even force you to make decisions you weren’t ready for.′

Granger tilted her head, surveying him as if trying to determine how genuine his words were. ‘But I ran anyway,’ she finished soberly. ’You stupid, _stupid_ man.′

She reached for him then, the pasta cold and forgotten as they kissed. His arms moved to her hips, while hers cupped his jaw tenderly. His eyes closed as he lost himself in her, and all would have been well. Unfortunately, when she pushed his robe open to run her hands over the planes of his chest, her hand nudged the little ‘X’ over his heart. A little spark in the corner of Draco’s brain, the tiny sentient part of him that wasn’t seeing fireworks, screeched angrily, forcing him to pull away from her abruptly.

‘Aren’t you seeing someone right now?’ he rasped, his pulse racing as his hand instinctively moved to his chest. The half-healed burn throbbed, as if reminding him of the reason for its existence.

‘We broke up.’ She didn’t seem very sad.

‘I’m sorry,’ Draco offered.

She grinned. ‘I think we both know you’re not.’

‘Was it my fault?’ he persisted, still feeling a little guilty.

She shook her head, grin widening. ’Not really. I’d already called it off before Harry told me about _this_ little connection.′ She used her index finger to gesture between the two of them as she spoke.

‘Was it because he was horrible in bed?’ he teased, feeling appeased. ‘Not everyone is as good as me, Granger.’

She laughed a little at that, before sobering up. ‘We had a conflict of interest,’ she finally admitted. ‘And maybe the sex was a little on the inferior side, too.’

‘I’d be happy to fix that, if you’ll have me,’ Draco proposed, eyes dancing.

Granger looked thoughtful as she pretended to consider his request. ‘Well, seeing how you’re already married to me, I don’t see why not,’ she smirked finally, before adding seriously, ‘I’m sorry I hurt you, Draco. I didn’t know this would happen, but I feel guilty all the same.’ her hand hovered over the mark over his heart, as if her touch alone could make it go away.

Draco brushed his lips lightly to hers. ‘It wasn’t your fault. If anything, it was mine. I’m sorry for not telling you about the spell, for putting you in this position in the first place.’

She nodded happily, and then a smirk slowly tugged at the edge of her lips. ‘Do you have an owl? No wait, of course you do. Where’s your owl?’

Draco looked at her in confusion before pointing her to his bedroom. ’In there. _Why?′_

‘I need to send your mother a message,’ she called over her shoulder as she skipped off in the direction he’d pointed, leaving him staring after her, baffled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> Beta Credit: SilverRiv (on fanfiction.net)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave and review! You'd make my day :)
> 
> ~craaazyaboutMalfoy


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